Age is an Illusion
by Segev
Summary: Harry Potter and his friends are entering thier fifth year, and they make friends with a first year on the way to Hogwarts. The boy is quiet and polite, and Malfoy picks on him as a mudblood, so why is he put into Slytherin?
1. Call me Segev

Author's Note: "Segev" is pronounced with both "e"s short and the "g" is soft like a "j"

Author's Note: "Segev" is pronounced with both "e"s short and the "g" is soft like a "j". Segev is one of my favorite characters to roll play with, but he is not me or an extension of my personality (any more than any other character that an author uses). This is not a self-insert, despite the fact that I am using Segev as my pen name.

Disclaimer: Segev is (so far) the only original character or anything else in this story; Everything else is from J.K.Rowling's Harry Potter novels.

Erica Stephens was in the kitchen preparing a special breakfast while her husband sat at his computer in the living room, reading online financial news. Her son, Harry, would be down soon. This breakfast was for him, as today was his eleventh birthday. They were planning to go to the zoo later, taking one of his friends along as well (he didn't have many, something that worried Erica greatly).

With school having ended two days earlier, Harry would probably sleep in given the opportunity; he'd always been more of a night person. She would have to wake him before much longer so he could enjoy his breakfast and have time to get ready to go before his friend arrived. She would probably send her husband up to do that; Harry always was hard to wake, and it could be a frustrating task.

A few minutes later, she was about to call to her husband to go wake Harry--breakfast was almost ready--when her thoughts were interrupted by a loud tapping on the kitchen window. When she went over to see what had caused it, she saw a bright blue envelope on the ledge outside. When she opened the window and pulled it in, she saw that it was addressed to 

Harry Segev Stephens

Upstairs Corner Room.

The flap was sealed with red wax, a stylized "H" impressed into it.

------Upstairs, the boy sat straight up in bed, suddenly wide awake.------

The color and style of the envelope suggested that it might contain a birthday card for her son; though she was baffled as to who it could be from. She had just stopped staring at it and put it on the table with a shrug when she heard the sound of feet thundering down the stairs. To most mothers, this would engender, at most, a rueful shake of the head at the exuberance of youth, but Erica's reaction was very different: She jumped a full foot in the air, and was still frazzled when Harry slid to a stop on his stocking feet in the middle of the kitchen.

Seeing him in his black silk pajamas (he had selected them himself) still wrinkled from his bed, his blond hair tousled, was even more unnerving. A usual morning would have her suddenly sense his presence in the room behind her; when she would turn to look, his pajamas would be in perfect order, his hair neatly combed, and nothing about him out of place. He always moved in unnerving silence, and never let his appearance be less than immaculate. The only similarity between the calm, collected boy she was used to and the more normally disheveled child she saw before her now, is the presence of the recorder (the musical instrument, not the mechanical device), which always hung from a red silken cord around his neck; this morning, it was clutched in his right hand, the cord hanging limp, as if he had just grabbed it off his nightstand before running down stairs.

Harry quickly scanned the room, took a deep breath, and then visibly took control of himself, taking a moment to brush the wrinkles out of his PJ's and hang the cord of the recorder about his neck. Once he looked more like the child she was used to (though his hair was still a mess), he turned his ice-gray eyes on her and calmly said, "Good morning, Mother." His voice was polite, soft with a prepubescent boy's pitch, and quiet--little more than a whisper--yet carrying so that it could be heard easily. He sat down at the table, and, after a moment, noticed the envelope and reached for it.

"That was left outside the window for you, Harry." The boy winced at the name, but let it pass, as he had so many times before. Examining it, he seemed unmoved by the strange address on it and the wax seal. Touching the seal, he started, then set the letter down. He got up and walked quietly over to the knives, pulling out the sharpest he could find. He then climbed onto the counter and rummaged around in the cabinets until he found a candle, which he lit. "What are you doing?" asked his mom.

As he held the knife over the candle flame, he responded, "I do not wish to break the seal on this envelope."

"Well, that's silly, dear. It's addressed to you; and, if I remember correctly, wax seals like that are expected to be broken." The boy didn't respond. Once he was satisfied with the heat of the knife blade, he slid it gently under the wax seal, cutting it easily and prying it from the envelope without breaking it. This done, he pulled out the parchment within, and began to read it. Then, he read it again. Then, Erica heard him laugh, and shivered.

Harry Potter had spent the summer with the Weasleys, and thus was at the Station with them; the Dursleys nowhere in sight. It had been the best summer of his life. He and Ron were going to start their fifth year, and Ginny her fourth. It had perhaps been good for Ginny to have Harry living in her house, sharing a room with her brother--he had treated her like a little sister, and she seemed to have begun thinking of him as a brother, rather than one of those most mysterious and fascinating of all creatures: a _boy._

He was about to step onto Platform nine-and-three-quarters when his ear twitched. He could have sworn he'd heard a woman with an American accent say, "Harry, dear, there doesn't seem to _be a number nine-and-three-quarters." Harry turned to see who was talking to him, and why she would make such a statement. He saw the speaker to be a woman in her early thirties, but she was speaking to a blond boy in a Hogwarts robe who seemed to be a first year. He had only one large suitcase--or maybe a small trunk, and, though he had an animal (a raven) it wasn't caged, but rather sat on his shoulder like a taxidermist's model._

Harry waved Ron and Ginny on through (the Twins had passed through the partition already), planning to help the first year find the magical Platform. As he makes his way through the crowd towards the boy who shared his name, the boy set down his single large suitcase, muttered something that didn't look like English at all, and touched first his left eyelid, then his right. He then looked right at the partition between Platforms Nine and Ten and said in a voice that Harry could barely hear, "Oh, it's there, alright, Mother. Remember, this is magic we're dealing with." With a sunny smile that nonetheless chilled Harry when he saw it, the boy picked up his trunk with a heave and strolled casually past Harry towards the partition, and stepped through. The woman that he had left standing there looked startled at his sudden vanishing, then turned to a man that Harry hadn't noticed before and cried. She lifted her head off of her (presumed) husband's shoulder to call, "Good luck, Harry! Behave yourself! Study hard, and write often!" Then, she walked away with the man.

Harry went to his bags and carried them through the barrier after making sure that no one was watching. Once through, he headed strait for the Hogwarts Express and stepped on board. Having found the compartment in which his friends were sitting, he settled his trunks and Hedgwig's cage before sitting down next to Ron and across from Hermione. "What took you so long, Harry?" she asked.

Harry told them about the first year and his strange behavior. Hermione was, predictably, aghast at his behavior. "You mean he just left his mother crying without so much as saying 'goodbye'?" Harry nodded. Hermione sniffed her disdain. "How could he? Treating his parents like that. Shameful."

She went on like this for almost a full minute before realizing that Harry and Ron weren't listening. When she leaned over to get their attention, she found them looking at quidditch cards. She was about to berate them for ignoring her when they both suddenly froze and stopped their animated discussion. Then, she felt it too; someone was in the room with them. They turned as one to see a small boy in Hogwarts garb holding a small trunk, a raven resting quietly on his left shoulder and a white wind instrument hanging from a red cord around his neck. Very politely, he asked, "Is there room for me in here?" He had an American accent.

Ron was the first to speak. "Sure, there's room for you, since you have so little luggage, it can fit under Hermione's seat, and you can sit there." He indicated the seat across from him, next to Hermione. 

Harry stood and helped the boy to get his trunk situated. "Shouldn't your animal be in a cage? It might get lost or hurt if it flies around freely."

The boy looked at Harry searchingly. "No, he will stay put."

Once the trunk was put away and the children had taken their seats, an uncomfortable silence followed for a few moments. Then, the train started moving. Finally, Harry Potter broke the silence. "Your name is Harry, isn't it?" The boy looked at him, startled. When he didn't respond, Harry continued, "I mean, that's what your mother called you. I saw you out there, just before you found the entrance to the Platform. My name's Harry, too."

The boy blinked, absorbing this nervous declaration. Finally, he responded, "Call me Segev. Only my mother calls me Harry." He seemed remarkably self-assured for a first year surrounded by larger fifth years. "I thank you for permitting me to sit with you. I was beginning to wonder why magic would be used to make a room smaller than it appears, as compartments with only one or two children did not have room for me."

Hermione looked at him with pity, then seemed to remember what she had been saying about the behavior of this boy that Harry had told her of; she sniffed, "It was probably your manners."

Segev looked askance at her. Quietly, and with a tone of adolescent puzzlement he said, "I don't think so. I bumped into a platinum blond youth about your age in the passageway while looking for a compartment in which to sit, and he asked me a most peculiar question: 'Are you a pureblood?' When I asked him what the term meant, he became disdainful, called me a 'mudblood', and proceeded to taunt me. After that, no one in that car had room for me. Yours was the first compartment I came to in this car, and you let me sit with you. Again, I offer thanks." He actually managed to bow while seated.

At the mention of the word "mudblood", Hermione's expression changed again. Somehow, she managed to convey both outrage at the term and sympathy for the boy at once. Offering him a big sisterly hug with one arm, though Segev didn't seem to need it, she explained, "'Mudblood' is a filthy term to refer to those of us who are muggle born. Just ignore it; it's not your fault that your parents aren't wizards, and isn't even a problem. 'Purebloods' think they're so great just 'cause their families have had magic for generations, but their no better than the rest of us, and many are worse people. Harry and Ron here are both purebloods, but they don't make any big deal over it. Don't you worry; you'll do just fine at Hogwarts even if you haven't had any experience with magic before now."

Segev waited politely until Hermione removed her hand, and then responded, "I don't think I'll have any trouble at this school." He smiled. "No, none at all." Then, seeming to realize the chilling effect his smile was having on his fellow passengers, he brightened it, and let loose an intentionally boyish giggle.

After the tension of Segev's arrival had been broken, Harry and Ron began to tell Hermione about their summer, and she them about hers. Segev sat so quietly that they almost forgot his presence. The cart with snacks came and went, and Ron shared some of his Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans with the boy, who thanked him politely and swallowed one after another with no change of expression; occasionally setting some aside, not eating them. When Ron tried some of the ones he'd set aside, he found that they were all of the nastier variety--or orange flavored. Seeing Ron's face after eating a chalk flavored bean, Segev laughed quietly. "I won't eat the ones I don't like," he said, gesturing at the pile of discarded beans.

Harry was about to ask him how he knew what they tasted like when he heard a familiar--and unwelcome--voice at the door. "So, Potter, you're still taking in stray mudbloods," sneered Draco Malfoy. Hermione was livid and pulling out her wand. Harry and Ron already had theirs pointed at the blond boy. Segev muttered something, and it sounded foul. Draco leaned arrogantly against the lintel of the door. "Point those somewhere else. We wouldn't want you to lose points for Gryffindor even before we get there."

"You're not wanted here, Malfoy," snarled Ron.

"Do my properly cut robes clash with your poorly fitting hand-me-downs, Weasley?" Malfoy insulted. "Don't worry, I won't show you up by walking in with you. I wouldn't want to be seen with a mudblood like her anyway."

Hermione had just gotten her wand out and was looking as if she was trying to think of something truly nasty to cast. The word "mudblood" seemed to snap her out of it. "Malfoy, you apologize right now. You made it difficult for this boy to find a seat with your use of that word."

"Why should I? It's true, isn't it? I don't believe that kid is even a wizard himself; he doesn't even have a wand. I bet the letter he got was just a mistake."

Ron sputtered, "He does too have a wand! Show him, Segev!"

Segev calmly stood up and pulled his trunk out from under the seat, opened it, and began to rummage through his robes until he found a small pewter cauldron, from which he pulled a white wand. Malfoy laughed, "He had it buried in his trunk? What kind of wizard puts his wand out of reach?"

"Not everyone needs a wand to feel secure, Malfoy. You're the only person I know who sleeps with one like a teddy bear," Hermione taunted.

Draco was not impressed. "You would know about security blankets, Granger. Still afraid of the dark? Watch out, You-Know-Who is going to get you mudbloods." He began to laugh maliciously.Unfortunately, Hermione became incensed at his taunts, and brought her wand up, shouting a word. At the same time, the three fifth year boys saw this happening and brought their wands up as well. Malfoy pointed his at her to return a curse, Ron pointed his at Malfoy and Harry pointed his at Hermione. The latter two were shouting "Expeliarmus!" and whatever Hermione and Malfoy said was unintelligible as all four shouted at once. All four were shocked at the result: nothing. Not a sparkle, not a sound, not an uncomfortable cramp, not even a dropped wand. Malfoy walked off, staring at his wand, while Hermione began running her hands over hers, Harry and Ron both looked baffled.

Finally, Hermione declared, "Well, I can't figure out what's wrong with our wands. We'll have to ask Dumbledore when we get to Hogwarts."

Harry and Ron agreed. Segev pulled his white wand out. "What was it you two said? 'Expeliarmus?'" as he said it, his wand was pointing at all three of them, and their wands leaped out of their hands.

"HEY!" shouted all three of them. Ron picked his up, and then looked it over to make sure it hadn't broken. He had been paranoid over this ever since his wand had snapped in two and he'd had to go through all of second year with a malfunctioning wand. In a fit of pique, he pointed his (still undamaged) wand at the smaller boy and spoke the same word. Segev's wand flew through the air and landed in Ron's hand. As he looked at it, he realized that it was strange. It was a smooth ivory spiral. "Hey, Segev, what is your wand made of?"

"Unicorn horn." The boy actually looked...embarrassed. No, it must have been Ron's imagination. He was far too cold and calm to be embarrassed.

Hermione tried another spell with her wand, and found it to be working. "You try yours, Harry." He complied, and found his to be working as well. Hermione scratched her head, and said, "We'd still better tell Dumbledore about this. Wands don't just stop working for no reason."

"Yeah, right, what are we going to tell him we were doing? Hm? Fighting on the Hogwarts Express seems like a good way to get in trouble on the first day, Hermione," Ron replied, incredulously.

They continued to argue about it until the Express got to its destination. Harry and Ron did manage to convince Hermione not to tell unless it happened again. Segev sat quietly staring out the window.

As they were disembarking, they heard a loud voice saying, "Firs' yehrs come wi' me!" Segev was about to drag his trunk along, but Harry told him that it would be taken to the castle separately. "You get to ride across the lake with Hagrid." Segev shrugged and strode off toward the mass of first years around the Half Giant.

It was crowded and noisy in the hall as the first years were herded towards wherever they were going. Segev was standing with several other boys, all of who were discussing the four houses and which one they'd be in. Curiosity peaked, Segev ventured a question: "How do they decide which house you'll be in?" None of the children knew.

They finally got to the Great Hall, and the Giant had them line up in alphabetical order by last name. A bearded old man stood up at the High Table, and began giving a speech about welcoming the old students back and the new students here. He was midway through it when a disturbance occurred in the line of first years. It seemed that there was a ghost in really silly clothes dropping spinach filled balloons on the end of the line. Segev thought this rather pointless, but chose to ignore it. The giant was yelling at it, threatening to get someone called the Bloody Baron, but the poltergeist wasn't listening. A woman came down from the High Table when she noticed it and shouted, "Peaves! Stop tormenting the first years this instant!" She got a hairfull of spinach for her trouble, and stormed out of the room, presumably to clean herself up.

The old man, meanwhile, had finished his soliloquy. "And now," he was saying, "the moment you've all been waiting for: the Sorting Hat!" A ratty old hat with a slit just above the brim was brought out on a silver platter, and, when it was put down, it began to bounce and sing, the slit opening and closing like a mouth. Segev didn't pay much attention to the song, but got the impression that this hat had the job of determining which House one would belong to. Not knowing much about the various Houses, Segev didn't much care.

When he saw the means by which the hat placed students; namely, by resting on their heads and declaring a House name (sometimes taking longer than others), he became worried. The poltergeist (Peaves was his name?) was still dropping his spinach balloons, but most were being dodged. Unfortunately, he finally got to Segev's position in the line. Segev glared at the ghost, who ignored it and made ready to drop a balloon. Segev lifted his recorder to his lips and blew one long, shrill note, all the holes open. The poltergeist threw his hands over his ears and rocketed out of the Hall, flinging his balloon in a wild arc that landed harmlessly on the table in front of the old man. The four tables and the line of first years applauded.

Segev took the opportunity to go talk to the Giant. He pulled on his robes to get his attention. The giant looked down at the small boy and said, "Yeh should be in line, lad."

Segev looked him in the eye, mustering as much innocence as he could (not much, I'm afraid). Raising his voice to be heard above the chatter and the Sorting Hat's proclamations, he asked, "Can that Hat read minds?"

The giant looked puzzled, and finally answered, "Yeh, a suppose it can." At Segev's worried look, he laughed, "But don't let it worry yeh, none. It ain't never told anyun's secrets to my knowledge. Now, get back in line, it'll be yehr turn, soon."

No sooner had he gotten back in line than he heard the person reading names off the list call, "Stevens, Harry." He stepped forward, and as he walked towards the Hat said, "Call me Segev."

Harry shushed Hermione as she was going on about who the new Defense against the Dark Arts teacher was going to be when he heard a young boy's voice say, "Call me Segev."

"Hey, Ron, it's that boy who sat on the train with us."

Ron turned to look. "You mean the one with the Unicorn Horn wand? Yeah, you're right!"

"Which House do you think he'll be in?" asked Hermione.

"Hopefully Gryffindor. He seemed like a nice enough kid, we could get along with him," said Harry.

They watched in anticipation as the Sorting Hat was set on Segev's head. It sat there for a surprisingly long time, but finally the Hat said, rather nervously, "S-Slytherin?"


	2. Start of Term Banquet

Disclaimer modification: I had said that only Segev was my own last time, but actually his family is mine, too

Disclaimer modification: I had said that only Segev was my own last time, but actually his family is mine, too. They probably won't show up again, however. I am going to be introducing new first years and the traditional new DADA teacher; these are also my own. Everything else (unless I've missed still more) is J.K. Rowling's.

Chapter 2

As the Sorting Hat was placed on his head and slippedover his eyes, Segev spoke a short phrase under his breath. The Hat sat there, trying to read the boy's mind to see where he should go, and found nothing. No thoughts, emotions, or ambitions. Finally, it spoke mentally, hoping that it wouldn't have to admit that it couldn't place this child (at least, it was fairly certain that it hadn't been placed on an inanimate object). "Is there anybody home? You need to think about something for me to place you."

Finally, the Hat got something. A single line of thought, still not the deluge of images that it was used to. "You read minds, do you?"

The Hat responded, "Yes! How else am I supposed to place you students in the appropriate houses?"

"If you see what is in my mind, you will keep it a secret. You will not tell anyone."

The Hat almost laughed; it had never met such a shy boy. "I just determine where you should go. I don't reveal your secrets to the world." A feeling of consent came through to the Hat just before it got the deluge of images it was expecting. Then again, what it saw wasn't at all what it had expected. "Let's see, you would fit into one of two houses: Ravenclaw or Slytherin. Your wit is equally balanced with your ambition... hmm..., this could be tricky."

"What is the difference between the Houses?" demanded the human.

"Ravenclaw would help you learn, and one as knowledgeable as you would do well there. Slytherin is the House that would help you with your ambitions; they have fewer scruples and get things done."

"Hat, you will not tell anyone what you have seen. I would go to Slytherin."

The Hat would have shivered if it had been alive. Nervously, it spoke aloud: "S-Slytherin?"

Taking the Hat off his head, Segev strode over to the Slytherin table and sat down. Sitting down in an empty space near the other first years, he calmly nodded to accept the greetings of his new House. He ignored the comments coming from a familiar fifth year about mudbloods tainting House Slytherin.

Finally, Wyvern, Gretle was placed in Slytherin and the Sorting was finished. She came went to the seat across from Segev. With an arrogant toss of her raven black hair, she sat down. "So, you're the boy who drove off Peeves. What kind of magic was that? --Shut up, Malfoy!" that last was directed towards the aformentioned fifth year, who had steadliy been getting louder. At her condescending tone, he went even paler than usual with anger. The two big boys on either side of the pale one called Malfoy stood up angrily, but Malfoy pulled them back down, and said something quietly that Segev couldn't hear over he noise in the hall.

The girl turned back to him. "Well? How did you do it?"

Segev looked at her, then seemed to come to a decision. "It was my recorder. Blowing through it with all holes open drives away undead."

Gretle could barely hear him over the noise of the crowd. She reached across the table to touch the recorder, which was hanging from a red cord around Segev's neck. "Where did you get such a wonderful toy?

Segev grabbed her hand an inch away from the instrument. In an expressionless voice, he responded, "I had it when my parents found me on their doorstep. I recomend that you leave it alone."

When he released her hand, Gretle sat slowly back down. Realizing what had been bothering her about his speech, she changed the subject. "You're American?" At his perfunctory nod, she elaborated her question, "Why are you going to Hogwarts, and not Salem?" He just looked at her. "Salem is the school for witchcraft and wizardry in America," she prompted.

Again, he seemed to come to a decision before speaking, "Two years ago, my father was transferred to England."

There conversation ended there as the old man, Dumbledore, began speaking again. "Before we eat, I have a few words to give you. Here they are!" With a flourish of his wand, he send five slips of paper floating about the room. One landed in front of someone at each House table; two landed at Slytherin.

Gretle got one of them. "Periwinkle?" she read, a look of annoyed puzzlement on her face. The boy next to her grabbed it from her, looked at it, and tossed it on the table. "My father said that the Headmaster here was a little wierd," he said with a dissmissive shrug.

At the High Table, Dumbldore said, "Now that that's done, let's eat!" The plates in front of everyone filled up with food, and everyone began eating. During the meal, Segev learned from the conversations taking place that the boy who had taken the word from Gretle was named Darius Snape, and that his father's cousin was the Potions teacher and the head of their House. On Gretle's other side was a girl named Alice Garvonna, a blond and blue-eyed thing that Segev thought might have been pretty if she didn't act so falsely shy. She kept giggling at the stupidest things and making doe-eyes at Malfoy--who didn't notice at all.

To either side of Segev were a set of twins: Jason and Jessica Orm. Though they must have been fraternal (since one was male and the other female), it couldn't be determined by looking at them; they were identical. Their brown hair was pulled back in identical single pony tails held in place by leather thongs, their expressions were the same look of mischief mixed with superiority, their voices were indistinguishable and they spoke in unison or counterpoint--one completing the other's sentences, their gestures and mannerisms were the same, and they even moved in unison when engaged in similar activities, such as eating. The unnerving effect that this had on others seemed to amuse them greatly.

When everyone had eaten, the plates cleared themselves and the old man stood up again. "We have a few start-of-term notices for you. First of all, first years should note the name of the Forbidden Forest on the grounds; they are not to go there. Secondly, there is to be no use of magic in the halls between classes. Thirdly, Quidditch trials will be held during the thrid week of classes this year. Finally, I would like to welcome Professor Nagisa to our staff. She will be our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher." A tall, pretty Japanese woman stood up and bowed. One of the professors, who looked like Daruis, glared at her. Both she and Dumbledore sat down, and then four of the other teachers stood up and walked towards the House tables.

The one that looked like Darius walked over to the Slytherins. He must have been Snape. He spoke quietly, "Come, now, it is time to go to Slytherin Tower." With that, he turned away, leading the children after him.

AN: Yeah, I know it's short, but I wanted to get something posted and couldn't come up with any more. I actually had written another half page worth, but it was really bad, everyone was OOC, even Segev. I would welcome any ideas for events or plot lines from reviewers. I know Segev, but I'm at a loss for what to do for story. So, review and tell me what you think about what I've done and where it should go. Thank you.


	3. Slytherin Tower

The Slytherin Common Room was opulent, to say the least. Decorated in green and silver, everything was of the finest workmanship. The boys and girls separated to go to their respective dorms and find their beds; the first years were surprised to find that their trunks were waiting for them at the feet of their beds. The amount of luggage in the boys' dorm ranged from Segev's minimum of one small trunk to Darius' three large trunks, four suitcases, and a cage for his barn owl. The older children fell in between, as they were more experienced and knew what to bring and what to leave at home.  
  
Jason Orm felt rather smug. Judging by the amount of stuff the older children brought, he had about the right amount of stuff—one small trunk and one large. He kept his eyes on his dorm mates, wanting to know as much about them as possible. He knew Jessica would be doing the same thing in the girls' dorm. Knowledge is power, after all.  
  
Hmm, that was odd, that boy that he and Jessica had bracketed at the meal—Segev was his name—didn't seem to be bothering to unpack. He had just opened his trunk and rummaged through it briefly, as if checking on something, then closed it again. Now he was going downstairs. Strange behavior, and strange behavior was something to be marked, especially in Slytherin House. Then again, he could just be lazy and not want to unpack…though laziness was not a quality that placed one in Slytherin.  
  
Jason finished unpacking his small trunk (it had held his school books and supplies) and opened his larger one to begin sorting it out. This trunk held his clothes, but it didn't seem that there were any closets to hold clothes in. Shrugging, he shifted through his clothes and organized them so that he could live out of the trunk they were in right now. Then, he walked over to where the other first year, Darius, was struggling to find places for all of his things. "You seem to have brought a few too many things, Darius. Perhaps you would like some help unpacking them?" offered Jason.  
  
Darius eyed him suspiciously. "What do you want?"  
  
Jason laughed in a friendly fashion, "I merely thought to help a fellow Slytherin get his ducks in order." The smile didn't obscure the calculation in his eyes; no sense in causing Darius to think him an altruistic fool. "Besides, we seem to be the only first years in the dorm." Jason indicated the other occupants of the room—they were all older.  
  
Still suspicious, and now moderately surprised, Darius asked, "What happened to that American boy: Segev?"  
  
Jason indicated the closed and still packed trunk at the foot of Segev's bed. "He went back down to the common room without unpacking. Rather unsociable of him, don't you think?"  
  
"Yes, that is a bit odd, isn't it," agreed Darius. "I would appreciate assistance with my trunks. I wouldn't have packed so much, except one can never be sure what one will need, now can he?" Darius indicated one of his small trunks. "You may unpack that one for me."  
  
Jason worked in silence for a few minutes, watching one side of the room while Darius watched the other. Darius stopped him with a hand on his arm. "Look, Jason, isn't that Draco Malfoy going downstairs?"  
  
Jason casually turned his head to look. "Why, yes it is," he answered in a whisper. "What do you suppose he could be up to?"  
  
The two first years looked at each other and hastened to finish what they were doing before following the fifth year quietly down the stairs.  
  
***  
  
Meanwhile, the girls' dorm was much more chaotic. Jessica Orm had brought the least luggage, and she had as much as some of the more experienced boys. Gretle Wyvern was more typical, in that her luggage covered most of her bed. Alice Garvonna had by far the most; her bed wasn't even visible underneath the stack of boxes, trunks, and bags that formed a small mountain. Whereas the boys were each busy unpacking their own things, the girls formed small groups of two or more to work together on laying out their dorm. Jessica and Gretle had adjacent beds and worked together to unpack their stuff. Everyone wound up helping Alice at one point or another, and slowly her pile lessened. Jessica noticed that one fifth year named Pansy Parkinson was especially helpful…whenever she assisted, Alice's things would fit into remarkably less space than seemed possible, while Pansy's things seemed to take up more than they had before she "helped".  
  
When she pointed this out to Gretle, the taller girl responded, "Yes, I had noticed that, too. I don't think I want Pansy helping me unpack, do you?"  
  
"No, I think not," agreed Jessica.  
  
Finally finished with their unpacking, Gretle and Jessica walked down to the common room so they could converse without raising their voices. Jessica was speaking, "If he's not down there yet, my brother should be in the common room soon. We need to talk, and I think—"  
  
The girls' passage down the steps halted as abruptly as their conversation. The most beautiful sound they had ever heard was emanating from further down the stairs, which ended in the common room. At the same time, it was also chilling, haunting, like the song of the dead. As the girls continued down the stairs, they were incredibly quiet, their footsteps not making a sound and their voices frozen in their throats; they didn't want to interrupt the song, but they didn't want to see it's source, either. As they descended the last few steps, they felt a tingling chill, almost like a static charge, rising—making them need to shiver, but afraid to interrupt the sound with such a sudden action.  
  
Taking the last few steps, they made the final turn of the spiral staircase. Gretle's hard-soled shoe impacted with the stone floor like a firecracker, and the music abruptly stopped. With it fled the haunting chill it inspired. The sudden silence, and the dual sensations of relief and regret the cessation of the music caused, made the girls freeze in place. They scanned the room, searching for the source of the sound they had been hearing, but saw nothing except the furniture.  
  
Then, they saw a figure come out from one of the large green armchairs that faced away from them. When Gretle recognized the figure, she asked in astonishment, "Was that you playing that song?"  
  
Segev nodded once.  
  
Jessica walked over to him. When he made no move except to watch both girls, she asked him, "You were playing that flute?" She reached for the bone-white instrument hanging from a red cord around his neck.  
  
He nodded again, and grabbed it possessively, pulling back so it was out of her reach. She looked as if she was about to say something else, but she suddenly turned towards the stairs leading up to the common room.  
  
Draco Malfoy stood in the stairway, regarding Segev with a sadistic sneer. Jessica met her twin's gaze over the fifth year's shoulder.  
  
"Well well, mudblood," singsonged Malfoy maliciously, "what do you have there? Some muggle artifact? Awfully possessive of it, aren't you?" He began to slowly walk around the room, closing the distance between himself and the first year boy as a snake approaches its prey.  
  
Segev stood perfectly still, his eyes following Malfoy with a gaze as implacable as ice. Gretle hadn't moved from her spot at the foot of the girls' dorm steps, but had adopted a studying pose; she was going to watch this encounter and learn her Housemate's styles. Jessica had moved away from Segev, out of Malfoy's path; but that could have been more so that she would be opposite her brother with the fifth year positioned between the twins.  
  
By the time Malfoy was standing in front of Segev—and somehow failing to tower over the shorter boy—most of the male Slytherins had made their way down to the common room, where they formed a very interested audience for the expected bullying to come. Crabb and Goyle were hovering in the background, unsure whether or not to take up their positions behind Malfoy. He seemed to have the situation well in hand.  
  
"Well, mudblood, what is that thing?"  
  
Segev just stared back at the taller boy.  
  
Malfoy sneered down. "What's the matter, mudblood? Can't speak up before a pureblood? I don't know how a pathetic muggle-spawn like you got into Slytherin, but I don't think you have what it takes to be here. Maybe you should run to your friend Harry Potter," he spat the name, "he might protect you from the Death Eaters."  
  
There was an intake of breath at Draco's temerity in invoking the fear organization's name, but Segev continued to stare in icy silence. The twins' gazes were locked as they debated intervening in the confrontation, but if Segev couldn't handle himself, he wasn't worth allying with, and Malfoy didn't seem to need help. Besides, it wouldn't do to make an enemy of someone as powerful as Lucious Malfoy's son.  
  
Gretle watched the two boys, noting that, though Segev never spoke, he didn't seem defensive, just uncaring. Malfoy, though ostensibly in control as he was to one issuing all the insults, couldn't get a rise out of his "victim" and was seeming largely ineffectual rather than imposing. This confrontation had proven educational, but wasn't going anywhere and was beginning to bore her now.  
  
"Malfoy," interrupted Gretle, "why are you picking on Segev? I don't think he's a mudblood at all."  
  
Draco stopped mid-insult, and glared at the upstart first year girl who dared to interrupt him. He schooled the glare away from his features when he realized who it was. This girl's family wasn't one to have as an enemy; even Draco's father was nervous when Alexander Wyvern's name came up. Still, she was just a first year, and he couldn't have her putting on airs of superiority. "He doesn't know the first thing about wizarding, girl," he spat—he knew her name, but he wasn't going to honor her with its use—"and his name certainly isn't a wizarding one. Besides," he continued, turning back to Segev to resume his taunting, "he's a pathetic weakling who dishonors Slytherin House with his presence." Malfoy smirked as if a new thought had occurred to him. "It may even be in his best interest to leave," he continued, his voice condescending and falsely concerned. "You- Know-Who is alive and well again, and He won't tolerate a mudblood in his Alma Matre."  
  
Gretle sighed theatrically. "If you had been paying attention to events in the main hall, Malfoy, you would have noticed that this boy has some power of his own. Or have you ever driven away Peeves on your own before? That 'muggle artifact' you seem so intent on ridiculing is what did it. He claims to have had it when his parents, and I quote, 'found me on their doorstep as an infant.' I think he was orphaned and raised by muggles, but with an item like that as his heritage, he must come from a powerful pureblood family."  
  
Malfoy snorted in derision. "So he claims, huh? Well, let's just see about this so-called 'magical item.'" He reached out swiftly, catching everyone by surprise, and snatched the recorder from Segev, snapping the silken cord around his neck. He backed out of reach before Segev could snatch it back. Finally, Segev had a reaction. He no longer looked calm and unconcerned as he had throughout the exchange between Malfoy and Gretle; rather, he looked furious. Pulling out his unicorn horn wand, he pointed it as his tormentor. Power reverberating in his voice, he spoke a single word: "EXPELIARMUS!"  
  
The recorder went flying from an astonished Draco's hand, and sailed gracefully through the air to land in Segev's waiting grasp. Once it was back in his possession, Segev's countenance resumed its icy serenity. Segev turned away from Malfoy, who had recovered from the shock of the spell and was stepping towards the smaller boy. Segev began calmly walking towards the door.  
  
"How dare you attack your betters?" yelled the pale fifth year. Crabb and Goyle took this as their cue to enter the scene, as it promised to get into a form of abuse they understood: physical.  
  
Crabb moved the fastest, and punched Segev in the back, knocking him over. "Don't turn your back on Draco when he's talking to you!" he commanded.  
  
Segev rolled over into a sitting position, tears of pain, humiliation, and rage streaming down his face. Crabb moved to stand over him, gloating. Segev screamed something incoherent, yet inarguably foul, and lunged at his larger tormentor. His right hand was curled into a claw, and glowing with chill blue energy when he struck Crabb in his gut. The Fifth Year opened his mouth in a silent scream, and his eyes registered a look of mild surprise before his slumped to the ground, motionless.  
  
The other children in the room backed away in shock as Segev stood up and collected himself, wiping the humiliating tears from his face with his sleeve. He looked at Crabb on the ground with a sick expression, then muttered something under his breath before touching each of his own eyes. Seeming reassured, his expression returned to what the others were beginning to assume was normal for him.  
  
Glancing around the room once, taking in the stunned faces of his fellow Slytherins, Segev turned again and strode out of Slytherin Tower while Malfoy and Goyle moved to examine their motionless friend.  
  
---  
  
Author's Note: Heheheh. The story is going somewhere, now…where that may be is another matter. I hope everyone enjoys this chapter. I know the wait has been abhorrently long. Zhel never got back to me with the dialogue, so what is here I wrote over Christmas break. Oh, and she knows full well why I don't read her stories. (Bloody shounen-ai fangirl) But if any of you are interested in that stuff, she's writing a fushigi yuugi reincarnation fic on fanfiction.net. As always, reviews are adoringly read and reread, so please review! Or I'll unleash Segev on you. HAHAHAHAHAHA! cough cough er, bye now.  
  
Thanks go out to MarsIsBrightTonight for correcting my use of colors in the Slytherin common room. And, also, it is a recorder, which is played straight, not a flute, which is played sideways. I have been using it interchangeably on purpose, trying to ensure that no one got confused and thought I was talking about a tape recorder. From now on, any references to it as a flute are accidental (unless a character calls it one—they don't all know what a recorder is), as I intend to call it what it is for the remainder of the story. 


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